


Trouble Inside Our Skin

by Mosca



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Back Pain, Bath Sex, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Concussion Syndrome, Rimming, Vehicular Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 11:11:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10463565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mosca/pseuds/Mosca
Summary: Too injured to compete at 2016 Nationals, Jason and Joshua build a pillow fort where they can watch the competition, deal with their shit, and finally get together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this more than a year ago, just after 2016 Nationals. Then, things got worse, injury-wise, with both of these guys, and it became so upsetting I had to shove it in a drawer. I revisited it this week, realized it is no longer soul-crushing, and finished it up so I could post. 
> 
> #Twizzlers, this story is where the "Go back to the pillow fort" thing comes from.
> 
> Major warning for a frank depiction of the physical and mental health problems that both guys were canonically dealing with at the time. All three - chronic back injury, post-concussion syndrome, and depression - are conditions with a lot of YMMV to them, and no two people experience them in the same way. In particular, Josh's treatment for his depression, and his ways of conceptualizing it, are approaches that work well for some people and not at all for others.
> 
> This story also contains: suicidal ideation; lots of drinking, sometimes in combination with prescription drugs; prescription painkiller use; non-dairy ice cream; a highly fictionalized version of IceNetwork that doesn't freeze all the time; and things that are actually for sale at Costco.
> 
> Profuse thanks to footnoterphone and lovessong for beta reading. The title is adapted from "Slipped" by The National.

**Friday**

Jason’s texts always came out of nowhere after Josh hadn’t heard from him for, like, a month, and they always sounded like he was picking up in the middle of a conversation with context that Josh was supposed to know already. This time, the text came at 7 AM on Friday, and it was just, _are you going to watch??_

 _Watch what???_ Josh texted back, hoping he hadn’t gone all post-concussion again and forgotten an important earlier conversation. He hadn’t had memory problems in a month, though, and even if he was having them again, randomly deleting texts wasn’t one of his symptoms. He’d have a record of whatever he’d forgotten. 

His therapist would have been proud of him for logicking through that. “If you get frustrated, go back and make sure you’re going through all the steps,” she’d told him. That, at least, had gotten its hooks in his memory.

_Nats, sorry. But are you watching? Jordan says he can’t because it’s too depressing…_

_So I’m like your 2nd choice Nats watching pity party friend?_ Josh realized after he hit send that he might have hurt Jason’s feelings with that one. The problem with texting was, even when he remembered to stick an emoji at the end, it was hard to show that when he sounded harsh, he was mostly making fun of himself.

_Actually I asked Ricky before you but he said it was too long of a drive._

Josh wished that Jason could hear that his _LOL_ was literally true.

_No, I was going to invite you either way, I just talked to Jordan first._

Obviously, they should just have been banned from communicating by text. Josh wrote, _Ok, but seriously I’m watching everything. Even juvenile pairs._

 _Are you kidding!! Juvenile pairs is the cutest!! When they do the lifts!!!!_ Jason might have been the only person who needed that many exclamation points to describe Juvenile pairs, and that was why he was the perfect person to watch with. 

_So maybe you should come over here since I have a living room and a real kitchen,_ Josh wrote. _I’m cleared to drive so I can go there if I have to though._

Jason was fine with that, so they figured out how to translate the official schedule to Mountain Time and made plans accordingly. That left Josh with less than 24 hours to make his apartment not disgusting, so he spent the rest of the day cleaning, listening to music, and realizing that he’d gotten lonely without noticing.

*

**Saturday**

They had decided they weren’t insane enough to wake up for the juvenile pattern dances, but Jason still had to show up by 9:00 in the morning for the intermediate ladies. He loaded the car with all the stuff he might need if his back acted up. He hoped he wasn’t tempting fate by not begging one of his neighbors to help him scrape the snow off his car, but he got through it without doubling over in pain or feeling that weird numbness down his leg.

He’d been to Josh’s apartment only once before, for the housewarming party when Josh and Joe had moved in. Whenever they spent time together, they pledged to hang out more frequently, but it never happened. It was too easy to get in the habit of some friends and out of the habit of others.

Jason’s back therapy gear hadn’t looked like all that much when he’d packed it into the car, but when he got to Josh’s door with his two ergonomic pillows, his thermal back wrap, and his inflatable heating pad, Josh said, “What were you planning to do, like, build a pillow fort?”

Jason surveyed Josh’s living room. The whole apartment smelled like lemon-scented cleaning products, and the carpet had the freshly-mown look of recent, frantic vacuuming. “This place could use one,” he said.

Josh looked ready to kill him for a second before his face melted into a grin. “Oh my God, you’re so right,” Josh said.

They had half an hour before the intermediate ladies, and Josh had already hooked up the live stream to his TV, so they were free to achieve their architectural dreams. Josh got two spare bed sheets from his room, and they tied two of the corners together to make a mega-sheet. They tucked one end behind the couch and stretched the rest like a canopy across the living room, anchoring the free end behind the TV with a pair of repositioned floor lamps. Josh’s couch was a pull-out, so they unfolded the bed, arranged the couch cushions in front of it, and draped a blanket over the cushions to create a cave. 

The pull-out bed was a little bare even when Jason arranged his back relief crap onto it. He assembled it and found a comfortable position just as the first warm-up group of tiny, nervous girls took the ice. “If we were actually there, we’d be skipping this,” Jason pointed out.

“If we were actually there, we’d have practice and media stuff, and we’d be nervous and hungry and tired,” Josh said.

“True.”

“We’ll still be hungry, though, because I just realized I’m out of snacks, and if we’re going to hide in a pillow fort watching TV for a week, like, snacks are maybe a requirement,” Josh said, possibly not aware that he was speaking out loud. 

“I think it’s more pattern dances after this,” Jason said. “We’ll have time for a Costco run.”

Jason hadn’t been to Costco since he’d turned 21, so he hadn’t realized they sold giant jugs of store-brand vodka. Once he realized they existed, he had to have them, and Josh’s only comment was, “You’re right, this will work so much better if we’re drunk.” Josh had to read the packaging on every snack item, and the only things he approved were nuts, dried fruit, and buffalo jerky, although those were probably better for them anyway. 

On their way to checkout, Jason spotted a display of faux fur animal-print throw pillows and blankets on clearance. “For the _fort,”_ Jason insisted.

“They’re going home with you at the end of the week,” Josh said.

“Like I’d let you keep them,” Jason said. “They’re soft like bunnies.”

What Costco didn’t have was dairy-free ice cream, so they had to swing by Whole Foods, which turned out to be a paradise of junk food that Josh could actually eat. Josh picked out vegetables and chicken, too, making untrustworthy noises about cooking a healthy dinner one night or other. 

They got back just in time for the intermediate men. “Remember how big we felt when we were that little?” Josh said. He’d wrapped himself up in the chinchilla-print throw blanket from Costco and was eating coffee-flavored fake ice cream out of the pint container. Jason watched him catch a drip with his tongue and slowly lick the underside of the spoon. Jason’s dick was suddenly very interested in how that move would feel on his skin. He hated these flashes of off-limits desire, for Josh and people like him, people he’d never hook up with because he knew better. Jason willed his feelings into a ball at the pit of his stomach and begged his erection to go away before Josh noticed.

The juvenile pairs didn’t finish until 9:00 in the evening. Luckily, Jason’s back didn’t start bothering him, mostly because he was lying on a pile of pillows, and his dick left him alone, too, mostly because he was mixing Advil and vodka. Come to think of it, driving home sounded like a dangerous idea. 

He must have looked even worse from the outside, because Josh asked, “Will your back be okay on the sofa bed, or do you want me to lend you my bed for the night?”

“That’s fine,” Jason said. “I’ll just call an Uber.”

“And then another one in the morning?” Josh said. “Don’t be stupid. Stay here.”

“I’m not stupid, just drunk.” Jason stretched out across the sofa bed. It was comfortable for a pull-out - no hard metal bar across the middle or anything - but lumpy. “I feel like I could sleep on this, but I’m probably wrong.”

“Yeah, then don’t,” Josh said. “Take my bed. It’s fine.”

“But I don’t want to kick you out of your bed,” Jason said.

“You’re not kicking me out. I’m volunteering.”

Jason had an idea he couldn’t get rid of. He was pretty sure it was regrettable drunk logic, but he couldn’t think of a problem it didn’t solve. Either they’d both get the bed, or Josh would send him home. Rolling onto his side and pushing himself onto his knees to protect his back, Jason sat up to face Josh. He smiled like a warning shot before kissing him. 

From the way Josh kissed back, Jason knew immediately that he’d be sharing the bed.

*

**Sunday**

Jason drove home in the morning before Josh had a chance to make coffee. Despite Jason’s assurances that everything was fine, he wanted to take a shower and pack an overnight bag before the skating started, Josh couldn’t convince himself that he hadn’t screwed this up. Maybe he was supposed to have gone for full-on sex instead of making out for a while before they fell asleep. Maybe Jason had woken up and regretted even making out. Josh tried to convince himself that he was just being self-defeating, because kissing Jason once made Josh want to do nothing but kiss him again.

For an hour, Josh sat in the fort drinking coffee and fighting despair. He also couldn’t figure out if the brain fog was back, or if he was just hungover. He curled up in the cave at the foot of the hide-a-bed and watched the first flight of Juvenile free dances. The kids at the bottom of the ranks performed shaky lifts with big smiles on their faces. Josh remembered how angry he would have been if someone had told him he was adorable when he was ten, but he couldn’t rationalize away the cuteness on display. 

Josh realized he’d shaken off his worries about Jason for the moment. He hoped that meant the medication was working.

Before he could think about that too much, Jason showed up, wheeling an overstuffed suitcase behind him and balancing a tray of coffee and a brown paper bag on his free arm. “Your latte has almond milk, the muffins are vegan, and can you take this stuff so I don’t drop it?” Josh put the tray and bag on the coffee table, which they’d shoved into a corner of the living room to make space for the fort. Jason parked his suitcase in Josh’s bedroom. “Hang on, there’s more in the car,” Jason said, already halfway out the front door.

Jason returned a minute later with a hamper full of pillows and blankets. “For the fort,” he said. 

“Can we work on it later?” Josh said. “After the juvenile ice dance?”

“Oh, no, I missed some!” Jason practically dove into the fort. 

It seemed like the skaters had gotten tinier and cuter while Josh had looked the other way. He snuggled with Jason under the ridiculous chinchilla blanket that Jason had insisted on buying. The vegan muffins were kind of dry, and Josh had already drunk half a pot of coffee, but he appreciated that Jason was trying.

They spent most of the day like that, entwined together, kissing during the Zamboni breaks. Jason didn’t push for more than kissing and light groping, and that was fine with Josh. His therapist had assigned him a bunch of exercises to help him focus on the moment rather than overflowing with dread for the future. Josh had been blowing them off, but making out with Jason was a great application for them. Not thinking about what the kissing would lead to, or what it meant. Letting the kisses be kisses.

During one of the longer gaps between events, they used Jason’s bedding to remodel the fort, extending the sheet canopy over the coffee table and building pillow walls around the pull-out bed. Josh didn’t let himself think about what a pain it would be to dismantle the fort and clean up. Right now, it was an awesome fort, and together they were tumbling over the pillow wall to cover each other in kisses.

*

**Monday**

Jason woke up to Josh snoring softly into his chest and his phone trying to vibrate its way off Josh’s dresser. Jason clutched for it, stretching to avoid rousing Josh, but his back protested. The phone fell to the floor, and Josh rolled over, eyes fluttering open. Jason reached down for his phone and felt like he’d been stabbed in the kidney. 

“Stop, don’t hurt yourself, I’ll get it,” Josh yawned. He leaned backward over the edge of the bed, giving Jason a scenic view of his pecs and abs. Jason groped for his glasses so he could see them better.

The phone had stopped buzzing by the time it reached Jason’s hands. The call was from Kori, and she hated it when Jason didn’t pick up. He returned the call immediately, hoping he hadn’t made her too cranky. “Sorry, I was asleep,” he said when she answered.

She sighed loudly. “Have you given any thought to whether we’re going to petition for Worlds?” 

She wasn’t going to like the truth, but she always knew when he was lying. He said, “I’ve been avoiding that. Like, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up the next day and it’s going to hurt less. When is the petition due?”

“Friday,” Kori said. “But sooner would be better.”

“Okay,” Jason said, too sleepy to commit to major decisions.

“Jason. I need you to take this seriously. I called the trainer, and they’re going to put you on the anti-grav machine and take some video. If you look healthy enough to me, we’ll move forward. Unless you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he said, although he wasn’t sure that was true. 

“Good,” Kori said. “Now, take care of yourself. You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?”

“No, I’m mostly hanging around Josh Farris’s apartment watching Nationals.” He hoped she wouldn’t make any inferences about getting drunk and hooking up. He reminded himself that she knew him well but was not psychic.

“Oh, how’s he doing?” 

“He seems pretty good,” Jason said. “It’s been nice spending time with him.”

Josh, who still had his head in Jason’s lap, smiled up at him.

After Jason hung up the phone, he rocketed into action. “Crap, I have an appointment with the trainer at the OTC in -” he checked the calendar in his phone - “45 minutes.” He got up, dug some appropriate gym clothes out of his suitcase, and wrestled his hair into a lopsided but effective bun. 

“Oh, I still have gym privileges there, can I go with you?” Josh said.

“Are you allowed to? Is your head okay enough?”

“I have a list of exercises I’m cleared for,” Josh said. He was changing from pajama bottoms into pants and a t-shirt. In his mind, Jason said a tearful goodbye to Josh’s abs, although he knew they’d be back later. 

“So you’re petitioning for the World Team?” Josh asked.

“If I can convince my coach and my trainer that my back’s healed enough,” Jason said.

“Is it?”

“Probably not,” Jason said. “But I’ll fake it. I want to compete if I can. And I’ll be fine by March even if I’m not really now.”

Josh looked back at him, doe-eyed and sad. “I miss that feeling.”

“What feeling?” 

“The one where you’ll do anything to compete,” Josh said. “Even if it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. I’ll be fine by March.” After he said it, Jason realized he’d responded to the wrong thing. “You don’t - you don’t want to compete anymore?”

“I’ve been thinking about walking away,” Josh said. “Doing something else with my life. But whenever I think that’s the right decision, like, I don’t miss the pressure, or getting hurt, but I miss being on the ice. Just skating, like, moving with the music.”

“So why don’t you do that?” Jason said.

“It’s complicated,” Josh said, in a way that made it clear Jason needed to let it go.

They brushed their teeth side by side and grabbed protein bars and coffee for the road. Jason was impressed that Josh knew how to program his coffee maker to start automatically on a timer. Jason had given up and switched to K-cups, but Josh’s homemade coffee was much tastier.

At the gym, the session on the anti-grav machine was rough, but the therapeutic massage afterward was heavenly. They assigned Jason to the really hot massage therapist, and daydreaming about Josh all through his treatment only made things more awkward. By the time he’d showered and dressed, he’d convinced his dick to give up and circulate the blood somewhere else, but it hadn’t been easy. 

Jason caught up with Josh in the gym lobby. Josh had found a comfortable chair where he could sit cross-legged and read a textbook. He was so absorbed in Psychology that he jumped out of his seat when Jason asked, “How was your workout?”

“Good,” Josh said. It sounded like he was going to leave it there, but as he reached over the side of his chair for his bag, he added, “I was just going to hit the treadmill, but one of the trainers recognized me and asked if I wanted to try out this new resistance machine. Which proved that my flexibility is, like, shot, but I was getting it back a little by the end, so I don’t know, I guess I could work on it if I wanted to. How was yours?”

“Painful,” Jason admitted. “It’s a good thing you drove.”

Josh didn’t lecture him for rushing back into training, but Jason could tell that the litany of reasons to take things slow was on the tip of Josh’s tongue. He was probably right, but no amount of lecturing or common sense could teach Jason patience.

In the car, Jason put his hand on Josh’s knee, just wanting to touch him. It started out as an affectionate gesture, but Jason’s hand slipped an inch or two up Josh’s thigh when Josh shifted the truck into gear. Now, Jason wanted to see how far he could get before Josh told him to cut it out. Josh’s willpower turned out to be fantastic, and Jason couldn’t tell he was even responding until Josh bypassed the right turn that would have taken them home in favor of the empty parking lot at the foot of the Greenway Trail. By that point, Jason had started stroking Josh’s cock through his pants, not insistently enough to endanger their safety, just teasing his intentions.

Now that they’d parked, Jason had no excuse for holding back. Josh was straining the zipper of his jeans into a stubborn curve, and it took some effort to free him. Jason nudged Josh’s cock over the waistband of his briefs, and Josh rasped, “Oh, God, you’re actually doing this.” Concerned, Jason hesitated, but Josh stuck his hand down Jason’s pants and said, “ _Please do this.”_

Josh’s hand was too dry, and Jason squirmed, hoping it would improve, before it occurred to him that he could yank Josh’s hand out of his pants and lick Josh’s palm very slowly. Mostly, that just got Josh harder, to the point where Jason could spread Josh’s pre-come over the rest of his cock and really get to work on him. Josh, helpless, rested his hand between Jason’s legs. It didn’t take Jason much longer to send Josh over the edge. It was fun to watch Josh come, eyes squeezed tight and teeth digging into his lower lip, and then collapsing back into the driver’s seat like his bones had dissolved.

He looked so peaceful, he shocked Jason when he shook himself off, released his seatbelt, and leaned into Jason’s lap before Jason had found something to wipe his hand on. He had a towel in the gym bag between his feet, but now Josh’s head was in the way. And there was no way Jason was postponing this blow job, so he cupped his hand carefully and let Josh swallow his cock. 

Nothing could have felt better. Screw medication and therapeutic massage; this was the cure for back pain. Josh’s warm, wet mouth worked magic, and the seat belt kept Jason from jerking up too hard into it. He couldn’t do anything but sit back and get harder and harder in Josh’s mouth, letting his held-back passion build up. He fought when he got close, not ready to finish, but needing it, the pleasure but also the certainty, that they were together and Josh wanted this. Wanted to make him come. Wanted it and got it. Jason let himself be loud, locked in a car at the edge of the woods where no one could hear him scream Josh’s name.

Josh reached up to kiss Jason, but Jason had made a fist while he came. He had no choice but to stammer his way through an explanation. “Sorry, I need the towel out of my gym bag, and I don’t think I can bend over that far.” 

A minute later, Josh was dabbing Jason’s sticky palm with Jason’s gym towel while they giggled uncontrollably. It was way too soon for Jason to tell Josh how much he was in love, so he figured out how to keep his mouth shut, for once.

*

**Tuesday**

“What do you want to do after this?” Jason asked as the first warmup group of the novice free dance took the ice. “The juniors don’t start until the middle of the afternoon.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I have therapy at 11.” Josh’s therapist had laughed when he’d admitted he was scheduling her in between novice ice dance and junior ladies.

“They put you in PT for a head injury?”

Josh took a deep breath. He hadn’t told this to anyone except his parents and coaches. Even Joe didn’t have the full picture of what was going on. But it was starting to bottle up inside him, and Jason was the least judgmental person he knew. “No, like, _therapy_ therapy. I’m depressed. Or have depression, I guess. Not caused by the concussion, although getting hurt made it worse. Like, they think I had it for a while before.”

“Oh! Oh no,” Jason said, squeezing Josh tighter in his arms. “So that’s why you’re off the ice? Not the concussion?”

Josh eased backward into the warmth of Jason’s chest. “No, it’s the concussion, too. I’m still dizzy and foggy sometimes. Not enough that it should keep me from training by itself, maybe.”

“But you’re getting better, right?” Jason said. “Because I don’t think I’ve seen you in this good of a mood for a long time.”

“I think so,” Josh said. “It’s hard to tell. It’s not like spraining your ankle, and every day it hurts a little less and you can move it a little more. It’s more like my allergies. I’m learning how to manage it so it doesn’t kill me.”

Jason squirmed behind Josh in uncomfortable silence, and Josh worried that he’d confided too much. But Jason said, “Sorry, I can’t sit behind you like this, it’s making my back worse.” They switched positions. Josh wrapped his arms around Jason’s chest and his legs around Jason’s waist. It must have been easier for Jason to see the TV, too.

“So are you going to tell your therapist about me?” Jason asked, laughing.

“Is that okay with you?” Josh said. “Because, I mean, she’ll be especially happy that you got me to go to the gym yesterday. That’s been, I’ve had a hard time pushing myself to do that.”

“I’m helping?” Jason said. “I’m glad I’m helping.”

Josh kissed Jason’s cheek, then, feeling a bit daring, squeezed his nipple. “You’re helping to prove that there’s no sexual side effects from the medication.”

“Not in front of the ice dancers!” Jason squealed. “I mean, look how small they are.”

“Well, except for that one huge team who looks way too old for novice,” Josh said.

“There’s always one,” Jason said with a laugh.

Josh and Jason had been the two youngest in the field during their novice year at Nationals. Fourteen years old. Josh remembered the fire he’d felt during his winning free skate, the triple lutz-triple toe that had flowed more effortlessly than the one he’d landed at Nationals last year. He hoped his brain chemistry wasn’t so fucked that he’d never feel that again.

Jason rubbed Josh’s thighs, warming them with friction. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Back when we were skating novice,” Josh said.

“Oh, you mean when you _beat_ me,” Jason said.

“I’ve beaten you a bunch of times,” Josh said. “But you were really good then. I was jealous that you got to skate to rock music.”

Jason gave a cursory chuckle but sounded serious when he said, “I can’t tell if you miss it or not.”

“It comes and goes,” Josh said. “Right now, I’m feeling it. I’m going to get that Biellmann back and everything.”

“Oh, God, don’t hurt yourself,” Jason said.

“My back’s the only part of my body I _haven’t_ destroyed yet.”

Jason trailed his fingers up the inside of Josh’s thigh. “I can think of a few others that are doing okay.” He must have felt Josh’s cock nudging the small of his back.

“Stop it! Children! _Ice dancing children!_ ” Josh intended his outrage as an invitation to keep going.

“I can hold out until the Zamboni break if you can,” Jason said.

“I can wait,” Josh said. “I can’t promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

They got themselves so worked up, kissing and touching, that they finished trading blow jobs before resurfacing was over. Josh didn’t mind that; the teasing had been the point. And it was worth watching the final flight with a clear head, because the best novice teams were great, on a different level than the kids who had come before. There were always a few standouts. It was strange to think how many would quit in a year or two, or never progress technically enough to make it out of juniors, or split up their partnership and never find a new one. At fourteen or fifteen, skating at this level, it was impossible to imagine a time when you wouldn’t be able to do it anymore, or when you wouldn’t want to.

When the free dances ended, Josh had to scramble to find a shirt and shoes so he could head to therapy. After a long kiss goodbye, Jason assured him that he’d have plenty to do, finishing an assignment for one of his online classes and filling out petition paperwork on Facetime with his coach. 

Josh assumed that his therapist would be pleased about his progress this week, but she got weird quickly, asking him all kinds of questions about being gay when he brought up Jason. She pressed him to own up to some sort of latent anxiety, but he’d known since he was a kid, and his parents had shown him nothing but support. Come to think of it, he’d come out to them the same year he’d won his novice title. As he deflected his therapist’s questions, he figured out the problem. “I guess I’ve never brought it up before, have I? It just didn’t seem important. I mean, it’s not like I was dating when I was barely getting out of bed.”

“So you don’t consider your sexual orientation an important part of who you are?” Josh’s therapist was really good at coming up with tough questions. 

“No, I do, it’s just -” He paused for thought and breath, and his therapist didn’t rush him. She was good at silences, too. “I had my first media training when I was eleven. Not sharing is kind of the default. And, like, a lot of other skaters, they have to learn how to keep their mouths shut, but me, they had to teach me to say _anything.”_

“But do you feel better when you’re comfortable sharing with others?”

“When I’m comfortable, yeah,” Josh said. Maybe that was why things were so easy with Jason, why they’d always been. Not just because Jason was so open, and so full of goofy energy, but because Jason was one of the few people his age having the same experiences. Josh’s therapist might have been interested to hear this, but Josh couldn’t find the words for it. Still, she must have noted some sort of progress that hadn’t occurred to him, because she went easy on him for the last ten minutes of the session, asking about Nationals and music and his classes. 

Josh swung by Whole Foods on his way home, because they’d devoured the small amount of healthy food he’d managed to get past Jason on Saturday, and Josh was constitutionally unable to survive on snacks all week. With Jason around, he felt motivated to do more than let vegetables rot in the fridge. 

When he got home, as he set his shopping bags down on the counter, Jason said, “I think your toilet’s clogged.” Josh sighed and shuffled to the bathroom. Before he could deal with the problem, his mom called. By the time he’d convinced his mom that he was eating and not sleeping all day, and taken out the resulting frustration on the plunger and his pipes, at least fifteen minutes had gone by. 

In the kitchen, Jason had taken all the food out of the shopping bags. Instead of attempting to put it away, he’d arranged it on the counter according to a sorting system that made no sense as far as Josh could tell. “I didn’t know where anything went,” Jason said. “So I just was thinking about what goes together.”

Josh had never visited the universe where salmon went together with beets and skirt steak went with kale and strawberries, but he didn’t want to hurt Jason’s feelings. He tapped on the inside of his wrist, calming himself with the rhythm until he could focus on a way to look at his kitchen counter that didn’t involve feeling worthless and giving up. 

“What are you doing?” Jason asked.

“Oh.” Josh must have looked strange, standing in the kitchen doorway and tapping his wrist. “Therapy stuff. I’m a little … I think I wore myself out.”

“There’s still an hour until the junior ladies start,” Jason said. “Do you want me to give you some space?”

“No, you’re, like - you’re relaxing. Maybe just get out of the way so I can put the food away?” Suddenly, a solution to Josh’s stress kicked in. “Or, wait, pick a protein and a vegetable you want tonight, and I’ll put the rest away.”

Jason studied the food and set aside the salmon and the beets. Great, this was going to be like a show on the Food Network. But Josh liked looking at it that way, as a game and a challenge. Rearranging the fridge to make room for his purchases didn’t feel like an impossible chore anymore.

With that finished, they snuggled in the fort doing homework until the junior ladies’ short program started. They were both blowing off their classes somewhat this week, but the classes were online anyway. Once the skating started, Josh’s mind swam with menu ideas: glaze the salmon and get the beets roasting after the ladies finished, then saute the beet greens and pan sear the salmon after the junior men were done. 

In between events, Josh put Jason to work peeling beets while he whisked the salmon glaze. Jason seemed more interested in watching Josh than in his own job, though. “Where did you learn how to do this?” Jason asked.

“I don’t know,” Josh said. “My mom, I guess, and the internet. It’s the only way I can be sure of what I’m eating.”

“That makes sense,” Jason said. “But it still looks like magic. Like you threw a bunch of random things into a bowl and now they smell great.”

“It’s not that hard. I could show you.”

“No, thanks,” Jason said. “I’d rather just admire your brilliance.”

Josh wished he could see the version of himself that Jason saw, the version that was special and strong, full of potential. But all he had, even with medication and therapy and time to heal, were his own eyes.

*

**Wednesday**

It was 7:00 in the morning, but Jason’s mind refused to let him sleep in. He managed to roll out of bed without waking Josh or damaging himself and tiptoed to the kitchen to find that it was so early, Josh’s coffee timer hadn’t kicked in yet. Jason pressed the “start” button on the coffee maker, hoping it was as foolproof as it looked. While he waited, he put on his back warmer and arranged cushions in the fort until he’d made a perfect pain-proof nest. 

He scrolled through Twitter as the coffee brewed. He was excited for his friends at Nationals, but the harder he tried to be happy for them, the more the jealousy nagged like a twinge in his back. He tweeted out good luck wishes to everyone and surprised himself with how genuine it sounded. But then, his serious side always seemed to disappear behind his smile. 

The coffee turned out great. Proud that he hadn’t ruined it and fortified by steam and caffeine, Jason curled up in his nest to do his Japanese homework. It had become his favorite subject: the reliable patterns of verb forms, the delight of discovering a new word for a familiar thing, the calming repetitiveness of practicing _kanji_ until his hand memorized the sequence of strokes. On a whim, he looked up “pillow fort” and got an actual phrase that made sense. _Makura toride._ The characters were simpler than he would have expected, so he practiced them until he had them right, then snuck into the bedroom to get his sketchbook and markers out of his suitcase so he could make a sign to hang from the canopy of the fort. He’d almost talked himself out of bringing the markers, but he’d suspected, correctly, that there might be art projects during the week. 

While Jason was busy coloring, Josh poked his head into the fort. “Thanks for making the coffee,” Josh said. “I think I forgot to put on the timer last night. What are you _doing_ in there?”

“Making a sign. For the fort. In Japanese.” The more of the explanation Jason sputtered out, the more absurd it sounded. “It says ‘pillow fort’ in big letters, and then ‘welcome’ at the bottom.” Jason pointed out each of the characters in turn.

“But nobody will be able to read it but you,” Josh said.

“Me and the Japanese tourists,” Jason said. “I tweeted them your address while you were sleeping. I hope you don’t mind.”

Horror flashed across Josh’s face for a moment before he busted up laughing.

“I was going to make eggs,” Josh said, still giggling. “I mean, if you want eggs.”

Josh sounded like he wanted to make them, so Jason said, “Yeah! Eggs are good.” He followed Josh into the kitchen. 

Josh cracked the eggs cleanly into a saucepan, never breaking a yolk or dropping in bits of shell. He scooped a couple of spoonfuls of coconut oil into the pan and whisked intensely, raising and lowering the pan over the burner. Josh cooked like a dancer, precisely and with the illusion of effortlessness. After a few minutes, he filled two plates with fluffy piles of scrambled eggs, nonchalant, as if he ate like this every morning.

“How do you say ‘eggs’ in Japanese?” Josh asked with his mouth full.

Jason wasn’t sure why he was being quizzed, but it was an easy question. _“Tamago.”_

“What about coffee?”

_“Kouhii.”_

“Breakfast?”

If Josh was trying to stump him, it wasn’t working. _“Asagohan.”_

“Um … kitchen?”

Josh almost got Jason on that one, but Jason reached back into last year’s textbook vocabulary and came up with it. _“Daidokoro.”_

“That’s amazing,” Josh said. “You just know all those words off the top of your head.”

“Well, I mean, I had to learn them for class,” Jason said. “And the word for ‘coffee’ is pretty much the same as in English, and -”

“That thing you said is _nothing_ like English,” Josh said.

Jason could have repeated the lecture from Japanese I about cognates and word compounds, the tricks that make vocabulary easier, but it sounded like Josh just wanted to be impressed. “Maybe I’ll go to Japanese class today,” he said, thinking out loud. “It’s my only in-person class this semester, and I already blew it off on Monday because Kori made the appointment with my trainer without asking if I had class then.”

“When is it?” Josh asked.

“9 to 10,” Jason said. “I have plenty of time to get there. I probably won’t even miss the free dance.”

Josh pouted a little.

“What?”

“Don’t worry, it’s just, I thought we’d be able to hang out this morning.” Josh made “hang out” sound X-rated.

“We’ll have plenty of time in the afternoon. There’s like, four hours between pairs and men’s,” Jason said. “Except, crap, I have PT at four.”

“For a guy who’s supposed to be lying around doing nothing until his back heals, you’re really busy,” Josh said.

“Yeah, I know, it’s just, I already have the PT appointment, and I don’t want to miss so much class, and -”

“And if you sit still too long, you pay attention to how much it hurts,” Josh said. “I know. I’ve had injuries before. I mean, I have one now, but it’s different. This one’s like, I’m fine for two days and then all of a sudden I’m dizzy and I don’t remember where I am.”

“You’re still having symptoms?” Jason said. “I hadn’t noticed anything.”

“I had a really bad one when I woke up this morning. Every time I think it’s over, I go another round. They’re getting less frequent, at least.”

“Do you need me to stay with you in case it happens again?” 

“No, I’ll be okay,” Josh said. “It’ll give me an excuse to do some homework, and wait, I think I have a quiz due today for my statistics class. Yeah, this is totally fine.”

“And maybe you can come to the OTC with me when I go there for PT? Since your therapist likes it when you go to the gym?” Jason hoped he wasn’t pushing Josh too hard.

Josh frowned, like he was trying to come up with a way to weasel out of it. “Yeah, I probably should,” he said. “Unless I have more concussion brain. I’ll let you know.”

Jason brought his back warmer and a couple of pillows to class with him, but driving back and forth to college and sitting at a desk for an hour still did a number on him. During class, he tuned out the pain, glad to practice conversation and hear the teacher explain the differences between conditional verb forms.

The pain came roaring back when he got to Josh’s apartment, though. The only position that didn’t hurt during the junior short dance was lying on his side with his knees pulled up. The fetal position. Josh asked, “Do you have any painkillers? Anything stronger than ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, I have some emergency Percocet, but I’m only supposed to take it if I really can’t handle the pain,” Jason said.

Josh sighed at him.

“They’re in a prescription bottle in my travel kit,” Jason said. “In the bathroom. Don’t take any; it’s against the law.”

“Yeah, I’m foggy enough today as it is,” Josh said. “You said they were in the bedroom?”

“No, bathroom,” Jason said. “God, we’re both a mess.”

Josh came back with Jason’s Percocet and a glass of water. While the drugs kicked in, Jason pulled his knees to his chest and buried himself in Josh’s arms. By the time the last group of ice dancers began their warm-up, his pain had dissipated into narcotic bliss, but his brain had, too. Jason stretched and sat upright, relieved to be able to move, and accidentally smacked Josh in the face with his outstretched arm. Josh laughed it off and kissed him. 

“I’m not sure I’ve gone to PT this high,” Jason said. “So that’ll be interesting.”

“You’re still planning on going?” Josh said.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t want to break the appointment,” Jason said. “And I feel fine now.”

Josh’s expression turned from playful to serious. “How are you even going to get there? You’re too high to drive, and I’m foggy, so I don’t want to chance it. And, like, everyone else we know is in St. Paul.”

“I can call around,” Jason said. “But yeah, maybe I should call the physical therapist first.” He found his phone. The screen kept swimming, so it took him a few scrolls through his contacts to find the number. 

As he explained his condition to the therapist, her mm-hmms got more and more ominous. At the end, she rescheduled him for the next morning, with plenty of time to get home before the senior-level events started. Which reminded him, he did want to watch the skating that was going on now. 

When the ice dance was over, Josh lay back on the sofa bed, and Jason sprawled on top of him, kissing his neck and shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he was horny or just wanted comfort and attention. Either way, the end result was the same. He grabbed Josh’s butt with both hands and pulled him up to grind against him. “Oh, hey, okay,” Josh said, and kissed him forcefully.

“Maybe it’s better if I lie on my back,” Jason said. “And you can be on top.”

“Like, _on top_ on top?” Josh hesitated. “Because I don’t normally, but if that’s what you want, I … yeah. I’m into it.”

Jason hadn’t meant it that way, but now that Josh had it in mind, he wasn’t going to talk Josh out of it. He liked the idea of Josh inside him. Fucking him until he could feel it, if that was even possible in his Percocet haze.

Jason rolled over carefully. Josh unzipped the cover from one of the throw pillows and took out a condom and a lube packet. “Sneaky,” Jason said appreciatively.

Josh giggled. “My drunk logic paid off, I guess.” He hovered over Jason as if afraid of crushing him. He took off his pants, revealing that he was gloriously hard. The canopy of the fort reflected light around him, so he looked like a sexy angel.

Josh lubed up his hand and fingered Jason so gently that it tickled. “Like I said, I haven’t done this that many times, so let me know if it’s too much. If I hurt you.”

“Oh, I probably won’t be able to tell,” Jason said. “Don’t worry about it.”

Josh stopped moving his fingers around. He looked down and shook his head; Jason couldn’t tell if he was upset, or if he was having trouble focusing his eyes. Josh pulled his fingers out of Jason and said, “Then I can’t do this. Not, not while you’re high and I’m foggy, and we’re both… completely pathetic.” He laughed, and Jason couldn’t stay mad, because he was so pretty when he laughed. And so pretty when he was naked. The combination made him irresistible. 

Josh flopped onto the sofa bed and gave Jason one brief kiss before he said, “Oh, ew, just a minute.” He came back with a towel and wiped down Jason’s butt as well as his own hand. Josh lay on his side and draped one arm across Jason’s chest. “So pathetic. Seriously. Can you imagine if we’d tried to go there and skate?”

“We would have had our first practice today,” Jason said.

Josh tilted his chin up at the TV screen. The first group of junior pairs had begun their warmup. “Yeah, we would have. But you know what none of the guys who are there get to do? Wrap themselves up in a fake chinchilla blanket and eat ice cream naked while they watch the junior free skates.”

“I don’t see any ice cream,” Jason said.

“Yeah, um, can you get it? I’m afraid I’m going to get lost on the way to the kitchen,” Josh said.

“Lazy,” Jason said, getting up. His legs felt wobbly for a few steps, but he found his bearings. He even remembered where Josh kept the spoons. 

Once Josh had draped the blanket over both of them, Jason said, “Okay, we need to take a picture of this.”

“Not naked,” Josh said. “I’m convinced that if I ever take a naked selfie, like, an alarm will go off at USFSA HQ. Even if there’s a blanket covering everything.” So they put pants on, wrapped themselves back up in the blanket, held up their ice cream pints, and smiled into Jason’s phone. 

Josh texted the pic to Jason. It might have been the painkillers, but Jason could not stop himself from laughing. “We need to share this. Somehow. Like, not with random strangers on Instagram, but our friends need to see this.”

“Okay, but after this warm-up group,” Josh said. “We’re missing skaters.”

Josh waited until the Zamboni was out to post the picture to Facebook, the only place where they could guarantee it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. Jason kept meaning to create a secret Instagram and Snapchat for friends only, but he hardly had time for one account per social media app. The photo immediately lit up with likes and comments. Too zonked on Percocet to achieve much else, Jason alternated between dozing off and checking his phone. He woke up mid-afternoon to find a new comment from Ricky Dornbush: “Are you guys hooking up in there?”

Josh had replied, “Yes.”

“Oh my God, what did you do?” Jason said when he saw it. He pointed mock-accusingly at the comment thread.

“I thought if I said no, people would get suspicious, and if I ignored it, people would think I was offended and get _more_ suspicious, and if I made a big joke out of it, it would sound kind of homophobic and self-hating, so I was like, just be honest, and either everyone will think I’m kidding or they’ll know we don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Nobody thinks you’re kidding, Josh,” Jason said. “Did you look?” There were ten replies already to Josh’s one-word comment, most of them along the lines of _Congratulations_ or _Adorable!_ And one from Ricky that was just, _Finally._

“So I guess everyone knows,” Josh said.

“Does that bother you?” Jason asked.

Josh gnawed his lip. “I think it doesn’t. I mean, it’s better than hiding it and waiting for a good time to tell people and generally worrying about it.”

“I don’t know,” Jason said. “To me it just feels like another thing I can’t control.” He looked at his phone screen. There were two more new comments, loaded with good wishes for them. “But it’s not like I could have controlled it anyway.”

*

Thursday

Josh made pancakes and coffee and didn’t ask how Jason’s back felt. Jason had fallen asleep immediately after the Junior Ladies the night before, and they needed all of breakfast to enthuse about Emily Chan’s Whitney Houston short program. “It’s so perfect, I want to skate it myself!” Jason said.

“In that dress, and just put it on YouTube like, no big deal,” Josh said. “I bet you could even get your hair to do that.”

Josh drove Jason to physical therapy at the OTC after they ate. He was dressed for the gym, but he didn’t feel up to working out while surrounded by people. He put his headphones in his ears and started running, down through the parking lot and onto the city sidewalks south of the Training Center complex. It was a little cold for an outdoor jog, but the sun was shining.

Josh ran down to the Prospect Lake trail. He loved the way nature seemed to pop up in the middle of the most urban parts of the Springs, like no amount of asphalt and buildings could squelch the sparkling green. As he circled the lake, he watched the wind ripple the water’s surface. There was no one around. It would be so easy to slip under, to breathe water until it filled his lungs. To live his last moments in this beautiful place, listening to one of his favorite songs.

He jogged to the edge of the lake. As his breathing and heart rate slowed, he saw outside himself, saw what his mind was doing. His first instinct was to run away, to remove the temptation, but he could find danger anywhere he went. He could go back to the city streets and find a truck to dash in front of. He could go home and raid Jason’s Percocet stash. There was always a way to die, if you were determined enough.

Josh sat cross-legged in the sandy grass, looking out at the beckoning lake. He did the easy therapy stuff that didn’t help much: taking slow, deep breaths and massaging the pulse point on the inside of his wrist. His family would probably be relieved if he was gone, not having to spend thousands of dollars to support him and his training. Jason wouldn’t have to deal with the burden of dating someone who was a complete mess. And his friends -

Angela. Angela would kill him personally if he died before she skated her short program. She wanted it so bad this year, and she was good enough to get there, to the top six if not the podium. He got out his phone to text her, to tell her she’d broken the spell. But “Hi, you just made me stop wanting to kill myself” would have come off weird, especially since he hadn’t talked to her about his depression treatment as a separate thing from his concussion recovery. Instead, he wrote, _Hope you’re having an awesome practice! Can’t wait to watch you tonight!!_

She surprised him by texting right back. _Official practice over, mostly sitting around nervous and trying not to eat EVERYTHING, how are you feeling?_

_Kind of shitty but don’t worry about it, you’re brightening my day._

_Oh no, did you reinjure yourself or something?!_ Angela wrote.

 _I don’t think so, just exercising more and sad about missing Nats._ As Josh tapped out the words, he felt their truth. He was putting stress on his body and his brain. It was good stress, stress that would heal more than harm in the long run, but it might fog him up a few times before he felt the benefit. 

_But I’m sure Jason is helping,_ Angela wrote.

_Yeah, I think so, it’s been fun ;)_

_You two are so cute,_ she wrote.

The next text Josh got was from Jason, saying his PT session was over. Josh pulled himself to his feet. The shimmering lake still called to him a little, but he wasn’t listening anymore, at least for now. He texted Angela one more _Good luck and kick ass_ before heading back. He started out walking but shifted into a run, pushing himself so hard that his lungs burned and his knees ached. But the pain made him feel real and alive.

When Josh got back to the OTC, Jason was lying on a bench in the lobby. Josh ran his fingers through his hair and discovered that despite the chilly weather, he was drenched in sweat. 

“I am so sore,” Jason said. “Take me home so I can lie on a pile of pillows and cry. I mean, it helped. No more drugs for a while. I’m just worn out. Looks like you got a good workout in.”

Josh would have been happy to let Jason talk the whole way home, but Jason seemed to want a response, or just need oxygen. “Yeah, I went for a run. All the way around Prospect Lake. Sorry it took me so long to get back.”

“Don’t worry, I got a bunch of homework done,” Jason said. “I didn’t want to cut your workout short. Especially if it’s helping your mood.”

“Yeah.” Josh forced a smile. “It helped.”

Jason studied him skeptically. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine now,” Josh said. “I think I overexerted myself, but, like, no brain fog, just … sometimes the depression likes to remind me it’s still there.”

Jason hopped to his feet and wrapped Josh in a giant hug. “I wish I could have been there for you.” 

Even though they’d hugged in public many times - sometimes with cameras trained on them - this felt intimate and careless. The guys that Josh had dated before had been pretty closeted, and he’d been cautious, too. But thanks to the internet, half of Colorado Springs probably knew about them already. He enjoyed not having to watch his back. “Don’t worry about it,” Josh said. “Angela was around. She was - she was kind of the right person for the situation.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Jason said.

Jason didn’t try to molest Josh in the car on the way home this time, which actually disappointed him. Instead, Jason chatted about nothing important. Josh was learning that when Jason did that, he was often avoiding something that troubled him. It was like Jason needed to set up targets and shoot at them awhile before he could attack the real monster. Josh let the sound of Jason’s voice become abstract and soothing. When Josh’s mind wandered toward driving into oncoming traffic, Jason’s voice drowned out the intrusive thoughts.

By the time they got home, Josh’s clothes were crusty with dried sweat. “God, I need a shower,” he said. He smiled devilishly. “Want to join me?”

“Maybe a bath?” Jason said. “Standing up is a lot of work right now.”

Josh grinned and blushed at the same time. “Go lie down,” he said. “I’ll run the water.” He did, and he squeezed in some dish soap so the tub would fill with bubbles. Before he called Jason to join him, he gave himself a quick scrub, to make sure that whatever happened, he’d get the worst of the stink off of himself.

It took some adjustment before Jason got comfortable in the tub. At least he wasn’t trying to lie to Josh about his level of pain anymore. They ended up nested together like they were riding a toboggan, with Jason leaning back into Josh’s arms, all of Jason’s body irresistibly within Josh’s reach. He kissed Jason’s shoulders and circled Jason’s nipples with his fingers, doing his best to interfere with conversation.

But Jason was a champion talker, and he had things on his mind. “So I had the world’s most embarrassing conversation with my physical therapist,” Jason said.

“Oh?” Josh hoped he was right about where this was going. It would be helpful to know how to fuck Jason without hurting him.

“Yeah, I asked her if I was, like, allowed to have sex,” Jason said. “And it was especially awkward because she was really careful about pronouns, and then I said the word ‘boyfriend’ and she, like, visibly relaxed.”

Josh kissed Jason’s neck, suddenly a very big fan of the word _boyfriend._ “So are you? Allowed to have sex?”

“Yeah, she went through all this stuff about lying on my side and taking things very gently, and in my mind I was like, I’m not sure I can even get off that way,” Jason said. “So finally I was like, ‘Or maybe we should just stick to oral and hand jobs?’ And once she stopped laughing she said that was a good idea if we were both okay with it.”

Josh kneaded Jason’s chest with both hands. “I’m okay with whatever won’t hurt your back.”

“That doesn’t hurt,” Jason said. Josh could feel him smiling, like one of those little dogs who wagged their whole bodies along with their tails. Josh groped downward, spreading soapy water over Jason’s smooth skin. Jason’s breath quickened under his hands. 

Josh brushed Jason’s cock by accident at first, not expecting him to be so hard already. Jason hummed with satisfaction and leaned back against Josh. Josh stroked him tentatively, meaning only to tease him, but when Josh shifted his weight, Jason said, “No, don’t move, keep doing that.”

“You just want me to - to jerk you off?” Josh said.

“Nothing hurts,” Jason said. “Just keep making nothing hurt.”

Josh kissed Jason’s neck and wrapped his hand around Jason’s cock. Jason relaxed into Josh’s arms, releasing his weight into Josh’s chest and thighs so heavily that Josh couldn’t grind against him, although he was starting to need the friction, the release. Well, he could wait, could make himself the center of Jason’s attention later. 

Jason lasted longer than Josh would have imagined possible, getting harder and harder in Josh’s hand, sighing as he sank into the steamy water. For a moment, Josh thought he might fall asleep and slide under, but instead he hitched his breath and came. Josh held his waist still so he wouldn’t hurt himself.

“I want you in me,” Jason murmured, sex-drunk but much more _there_ than if he’d been on painkillers. 

Josh could have said yes and nothing else, could have nudged and shifted and pushed up inside Jason’s ass. Instead, he said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me. You’re magic.”

“Not so magic that I’m going to, like -” He giggled nervously, because it was so hard to say necessary things out loud. “Raw dog you with no lube.”

“That won’t hurt more than my back already does,” Jason said.

Josh kissed the back of Jason’s neck and rose from the tub, careful not to jostle him. The water rolled off Josh’s skin as smoothly as worries didn’t. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s dry off and, like, do it in the fort.”

Jason tried to lift himself out of the tub and grimaced. Josh leaned down to help him up. When Jason was on his feet, Josh pulled the towel around both of them. It was too small and left both of them dripping, but pressed together. Jason kissed him, tongue hot and forceful, fearless. 

Dry and naked, they ducked under the canopy of sheets and into the fort. Jason lay on his side, as if carefully replicating what he’d been taught in PT, and hugged a fuzzy zebra-print pillow to his chest. Josh spooned behind him, pressing his lips into Jason’s frizzy ponytail, filling his lungs with Jason’s smell. He wanted to taste Jason, to eat him up. 

He ran his lips down Jason’s spine, following the bumps of bone with his tongue. It felt so perfect that Josh wondered how it could be so badly damaged underneath. He reached the cleft of Jason’s ass and wanted to taste that, too. He circled his tongue into the tart, clean skin while Jason moaned, “Oh, God,” and clutched the pillow tighter. Josh felt Jason wince a few times, but he didn’t complain, just shifted until he relaxed again.

Just as Josh’s tongue started to tire, Jason unzipped the pillow and passed him a condom and lube. Tossed it at him, kind of, but with good aim. Josh put the condom on, squeezed some lube on it, contemplated whether he was ready. He never felt quite ready for anything. But Jason was, taking Josh easily, saying things under his breath that weren’t quite words. Once Josh got going, he lost himself in it. His mind quieted. He didn’t miss it.

He was close, and he suddenly wanted to die. He almost stopped but made himself shake it off. He was going to hold this boy in his arms, and he was going to come. He could die later.

*

**Friday**

The men’s short program was about to start. Josh had made two pitchers of margaritas - one strawberry, one lime - and a giant plate of soy cheese nachos. Jason’s physical exam at the OTC hadn’t gone well: the doctor had kept frowning and taking notes, and Jason’s back had seized up so badly that he’d struggled to keep a brave smile on his face. He and Josh had been pre-gaming ever since. They were done for the season; they could afford to sit around getting fat and drunk while they watched their friends compete.

“So I’m not going to Worlds,” Jason said, balancing his margarita carefully. 

“I thought they weren’t going to rule on the petition until after the free skate,” Josh said.

“I failed the physical,” Jason said. “They didn’t say anything, but I could tell. And honestly, I’m way too badly hurt.”

Josh put his arms around Jason’s shoulders, and Jason dripped pink booze onto his ankle. “I’m sorry,” Josh said.

“It’s okay. I already kind of knew. And this is good, right! I’m here with you, we have a lot of tequila …”

“Nah, this sucks,” Josh said. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but - if I could be on the ice, competing, trying to win? I’d be there. And so would you.”

“You’re right. You’re obviously right.” He tried to turn and kiss Josh, but his back twinged so hard he had to give up. 

“I started really missing it today,” Josh said. “Not just skating, but competing. Being nervous and feeling like, _I have this,_ at the same time.”

“So next year, I get to hold your hand while they’re calling our names for warm-up?” Jason knew USFSA would put the kibosh on that, but imagining it made him more eager to heal, more willing to take his time. If he half-assed his recovery, he’d lose his shot.

“Yeah, right before I kick your butt,” Josh said.

“You mean before I kick yours?” Jason said. “Because one of us is the actual reigning National Champion, and the other one -”

“Was landing a really nice quad sal-triple toe before everything went to shit,” Josh filled in.

“Really? Cool.” He paused for a kiss before adding, “I’m still kicking your butt.”

“Like hell you are,” Josh said, as the announcer told the first warm-up group to clear the ice. It was Jason’s favorite moment of any competition. Nobody had lost yet. Everyone was tied for first place.


End file.
